


No, It's Not Okay

by twisting_vine_x



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: 3.07 Coda, Angst, Canonical Character Death, Dissociation, Gen, M/M, Sad, Self-Loathing, Trauma, currents
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-23
Updated: 2013-07-23
Packaged: 2017-12-21 04:04:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,645
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/895561
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/twisting_vine_x/pseuds/twisting_vine_x
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A/N: Takes place immediately after 3.07.</p><p>Summary: <i>For a moment, Stiles can’t make himself move, as he tries, desperately, to figure out what to do – and then he kneels down in front of Derek, whose expression is so gutted it’s impossible for Stiles to speak. He hesitates for a moment longer – for all that Derek looks and feels like he’s been cracked open, Stiles doesn’t doubt that there’s a world of anger that could burst forth at any moment – and then he carefully, hesitantly, takes Derek’s hands in his, half-cringing under the expected outburst. The absolute lack of reaction is even more frightening, and Stiles swallows hard as he – carefully – washes the blood off, until Derek’s hands are clean again; and then they’re both just kneeling there in the water, and Derek isn’t looking at him, and Stiles has absolutely no idea what to do.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	No, It's Not Okay

For a long time, nobody moves.

The only sound in the room is Cora, crying – and Stiles wants, with an ache that physically hurts, for Scott to be there with them. Knows that someone needs to say something – needs to do something – and if it isn’t going to be Scott, then it’s going to have to be Stiles. Because Derek is damn near shaking apart underneath his hand, and Isaac looks gutted, and neither Lydia nor Miss Blake could possibly have the faintest idea of how to approach Derek right now – and that leaves Stiles. Who can barely breathe, as it is; fights down the rising tightness in his chest. He knows what loss feels like, and he has some idea of what Derek is going through; and Boyd – he can’t look at Boyd. Leaves his hand on Derek’s shoulder as he turns to Isaac, hating the blankness on Isaac’s face.

“We need to – you and Cora. Can you move Boyd? I’ll –” _deal with Derek,_ christ, “– stay here.”

Isaac just stares at him, not saying a word; and then Lydia takes a step forward, pale and shaking but with her expression set, and Stiles has a moment of being so grateful for her presence that it actually hurts.

“Where should we –”

“Take my jeep. Take – god. I hate this, but Derek’s old house. I can’t think of anywhere else –”

But Lydia’s already nodding, and turning to help Isaac get back up. In front of Stiles, Derek still hasn’t moved – is still just kneeling there, shaking so hard Stiles can feel it vibrating up into his own shoulders – but Cora’s pushed herself up and wiped her eyes off. Glances at Derek and Stiles with a look that Stiles has no hope of interpreting, and then she slides her hands underneath Body’s shoulders, even as Isaac kneels down beside her to help; and between the two of them, they get Boyd upright – one of his arms over each of their shoulders – and start moving towards the doorway. The sound of Boyd’s feet dragging through the water is enough to make Stiles fight nausea, and he chokes it down and turns to find Lydia standing right beside them, her eyes on where their teacher has gotten to her feet and is watching wide-eyed from the doorway.

“What about her?”

“I – god. I’m not sure, but – the hospital, maybe? She probably shouldn’t be alone.”

“Alright. I’ll call Scott’s mom, after we – after the Hale House.”

“Are you –”

“I’m sure. You – just take care of him.”

She glances down at Derek – Derek, who still hasn’t moved, his bloody hands still in his lap – and then back up at Stiles, and Stiles can only nod. Watches in silence as Lydia crosses the room again, and puts a hand on Miss Blake’s arm when she doesn’t seem to want to move – and then it’s just Stiles and Derek in the loft, with nothing but the sound of dripping water to break the silence, and Stiles still hasn’t taken his hand away from Derek’s shoulder.

For a moment, Stiles can’t make himself move, as he tries, desperately, to figure out what to do – and then he kneels down in front of Derek, whose expression is so gutted it’s impossible for Stiles to speak. He hesitates for a moment longer – for all that Derek looks and feels like he’s been cracked open, Stiles doesn’t doubt that there’s a world of anger that could burst forth at any moment – and then he carefully, hesitantly, takes Derek’s hands in his, half-cringing under the expected outburst. The absolute lack of reaction is even more frightening, and Stiles swallows hard as he – carefully – washes the blood off, until Derek’s hands are clean again; and then they’re both just kneeling there in the water, and Derek isn’t looking at him, and Stiles has absolutely no idea what to do. Erica’s death had been hard on Derek, Stiles knows – but this feels different. This feels like Derek’s going to shatter if Stiles presses too hard, and Stiles lets them kneel there for a long time before he feels confident enough to slide his hands underneath Derek’s elbows.

“C’mon, Derek. We need to –”

He cuts himself off when his pocket buzzes, but Derek doesn’t seem to care either way. Can’t seem to do anything but kneel there and shake, and Stiles mutters a curse as he fumbles his phone out, Isaac’s name flashing bright across the screen.

_Kali made Derek do it. The twins held his hands, and she used his claws to kill Boyd._

“Jesus, Derek.”

He feels – it’s too much. It’s like being punched and kicked and choked all at the same time. He can’t breathe. He’s pretty sure he’s going to throw up – and then Derek raises his head, still looking so gutted Stiles can barely look at him, and Stiles carefully puts aside his own reactions. This is – Derek needs him right now, and Stiles needs to keep himself together for the both of them.

“Come on, Derek. It’s –”

“Not okay; it’s not okay, I –”

“– Wasn’t gonna say it was, big guy. But it’s not safe here, and we need to get you somewhere –”

But Derek’s shaking his head, hunching in even closer on himself, his eyes dropping back down to his clean hands and his body starting to shake worse than ever – and Stiles, distantly, realizes that he’s crying. That his eyes are burning and his throat has gone all tight, the room blurring around him; and then he blinks it away and takes Derek’s hands again, getting to his feet and tugging as gently as he can. Knows that the only way Derek’s going to be moved is if he lets himself.

“Come on, Derek. I’m not asking much, man, but I do need you to stand. Can you –”

“I – they – I –”

“Don’t have to talk about it now, buddy. Just – on your feet, alright? You can’t stay here.”

“I –”

“ _Derek._ Please. What if – what if Kali comes back, alright? She’d kill you, easy, if she finds you like this, and Scott and Isaac still need you, okay? Which means you need to get up, and let me help you.”

It’s a dick move – he knows it even as he says it; bringing in the rest of the pack, and making them Derek’s responsibility, after what’s just happened – but it seems to work; because while Derek still kneels there and shakes for a bit longer, he eventually lets Stiles tug him to his feet. Stands there like a fucking sleepwalker – face still twisted in a way Stiles can’t quite look at – and Stiles glances around, desperately, and nearly chokes on the wave of relief when he sees a set of keys on the counter. Leaves Derek just long enough to grab them, and then he takes Derek’s arm and leads him out the door and down the stairs to the parking lot, where Derek gets into the passenger seat of his own car without saying a word. It’s beyond, frightening, actually; and Stiles doesn’t even think of the consequences of bringing him home until he gets there, and then breathes a sigh of relief at the fact that his dad’s car into isn’t in the driveway. He knows the sight they would have made – Derek still looks stunned, and he’s still soaking wet and covered in blood, with his skin and his clothes ripped apart – and there would have been no explaining that one –

Suddenly, Derek shifts in the seat beside him, a minute movement that sounds like a gunshot, and Stiles scrambles to put the car in park. Turns the key and then gets around to the passenger’s side – and still doesn’t get a single word of protest from Derek, who gets out of the car like a zombie. It’s enough to make Stiles stomach’ turn as he gets Derek into the house – leads him through the foyer and up the stairs and into Stiles’ bedroom – and then Derek sits down on the side of his bed, staring down at the carpet, and Stiles swallows hard and realizes he’s completely lost again, because – there is no making this better. No possible way to undo what Derek was just made to do. Words, even – normally, Stiles can make words work for him; can find some way to ease the pain of a horrible situation; but there’s no easing this. Derek was just used to kill one of his pack. There’s not a damn thing Stiles could say that would make this any easier.

“Where –”

Stiles nearly bites off his tongue with how hard he jumps. Derek’s voice sounds shredded, but he’s no longer looking at the carpet – he’s staring at Stiles, wide-eyed, and then looking around the room – and Stiles – is so not fucking qualified for this. They need some kind of actual trauma counsellor for this – god, Derek should have had one _years_ ago – and then Derek starts to shake again, as his eyes drop to his hands; and Stiles needs to do _something_. Doesn’t want to move too quickly – he’s got a feeling that startling Derek right would not end well for anyone – but he makes his legs work enough to sit down beside Derek, though he doesn’t touch him, this time.

“My room, Derek. You’re safe here. Alright? Just –”

And then Stiles can’t talk anymore, because Derek makes a noise that sounds like a whine as he curls his hands into fists on his knees, and Stiles does the only thing he can think of. Breathes through the choking beat of his heart – tries to ignore the way his eyes are burning again – and then slowly – so very slowly – puts his hand on one of Derek’s. There’s absolutely no reaction – Derek has his eyes squeezed shut, and he’s shaking again, with no sign that he even knows that Stiles is there – and Stiles, with his free hand, fumbles desperately for his phone. Brings up Scott’s number and types out a message with fingers that shake.

_I need you here._

He hits send, and then slides the phone back into his pocket. Keeps his hand on Derek’s as Derek continues to not move, and then – they just sit there, in silence, until Stiles loses track of time. There’s nothing he can say or do. Wants to get Derek under the covers, in the desperate hope that he might sleep – but even though Stiles has been through his own trauma, he’s never been like this. Never – _disassociated_ , the way Derek is seeming to do; and he has no idea what to do. Hell, he’d probably take Derek having a full-blown anxiety attack over this – then, at least, Stiles would have some idea of what to –

Scott doesn’t bother to knock or scratch at the window. Slides inside, silently, and then stands there and stares at Derek like the sight is physically hurting him – and when Stiles meets Scott’s red-rimmed eyes, he knows that he isn’t the only one who’s been crying. Squeezes Derek’s hand – gently – and then gets to his feet and takes Scott’s arm, and then they’re out in the hallway, just staring at each other; until Scott exhales shakily, and rubs a hand over his face, looking about as exhausted as Stiles feels.

“Isaac – he texted me. Told me what happened.”

“Yeah.”

“I – jesus, Stiles. What do we –”

“No idea, man. He’s barely said a word, and – god, back at the loft. It was – I’ve never seen anyone look like that. What we _need_ is a trauma counsellor, but since he’s stuck with just us –”

Scott holds up his hand, suddenly, and Stiles goes still, his pulse ratcheting up, every inch of him expecting a blow – but then there’s the sound of his name, being called from the bedroom, and Stiles gapes at Scott for a second before they scramble back in. On the bed, Derek is still looking lost, glancing up at them in a way that makes Stiles hurt; and then Stiles sits down again and – hoping he’s right – takes one of Derek’s hands. Holds on a bit tighter when Derek squeezes back, and then he meets Scott wide eyes and shrugs helplessly. He might have no idea what’s going on, but if human contact seems to help, in any way, then he’ll sit here all damn night if he has to.

“I’ll keep watch.”

And that – that is the epitome of why they’re friends. In fact, he’s not quite convinced that Scott can’t actually read his mind. He manages a nod, and then Scott goes to sit by the window, and Stiles – simply holds on to Derek’s hand and tries to breathe, as the seconds start sliding past with nothing but the sound of their breathing to break the silence.

\- - -

Stiles isn’t quite sure how long they stay like that – Scott standing at the window, and Derek staring at nothing, his hand clenched tight in Stiles’ – but it’s Derek who moves first, eventually. Blinks and shifts – looks like someone who’s just waking up – and then he turns to stare at Stiles, and Stiles has absolutely no idea what to say. Can only stare back, not letting go of his hand, hating the way Derek still looks absolutely wrecked – until Derek swallows hard and glances over to where Scott is watching them. For a moment, Scott and Derek just stare at each other – and then Derek pulls his hand free, and climbs to his feet, looking like he’s about a second away from falling over.

“I need to go.”

_“Derek –”_

But Derek’s shaking his head, not looking at Stiles – and then he heads for the window, and Scott holds up a hand, as if to stop him, only to go still when Derek shakes his head again. Scott hesitates, and then he lower his hands and watches at Derek slides through the window, gone without another word, and Stiles tries to breathe through the nausea. Watches at Scott stares at the window and then turns back to Stiles, looking as lost as Stiles feels, and – god. He hopes Derek’s going somewhere safe. Hopes that he’s not about to do anything rash and dangerous – hopes that the fact that Isaac needs him will be enough to keep him alive. Hopes that they’ve done the right thing in letting him leave – though it’s not like either of them could have stopped him.

“I dunno, man. Maybe he’s gone off to heal in private.”

“Don’t see why he couldn’t just do that here and save us the stress.”

Stiles can hear the shake in his own voice, and Scott just shrugs, and then comes to sit beside Stiles on the bed, staring down at the carpet; and Stiles just stares at the window for a bit longer, something inside him starting to ache all over again, and hopes like hell that Derek will come back to them alive.  
  
\- - -  
  
Two days later, Derek is still missing - hasn't responed to a text or call from anyone; although Stiles isn't even sure if he had his phone on him - and Stiles - his stupid chest aching with how badly he needs Derek to not be missing anymore - finally goes to his loft.  
  
He isn't all that surprised that Derek isn't there, and he also isn't all that surprised to find Cora and Peter, instead; and he carefully - with an immense amount of effort - pushes aside his dislike for Peter and sits down at the kitchen table, hoping to get some answers. Anything that might help him figure out where Derek's gone. He might not trust Peter at all - might spend most of his time expecting to feel Peter's claws in his back - but Cora seems to truly care about her brother, and that's enough for Stiles. He has a feeling that, in the upcoming months, Derek is going to need every true ally he can possibly have.


End file.
